#because she would see him as a failure and he wouldn't take too kindly to that either

[cynocardia]

morgan was definitely the kind of kid who would have bragged about how all his teachers think he's a prodigy but he like, grew up

he will correct you on stuff, like if you say a simile is a metaphor, but that's not arrogance that's just autism. he doesn't feel like it's impolite. likewise, sasha can't stand people calling their crutch a cane, because it's not. but because they're such a people pleaser they'll also call it a cane sometimes

[bats-and-birds-24]

Chapter 15:

Talia could feel her temples throbbing from the mess she’s going to have to face. Bruce would not take kindly to knowing that he has another son, one that he knew nothing about. And that’s not even touching the situation with Jason right now. At the very least, Timothy should have filled in most of what has happened to the two, which should lighten her load considerably.

Jason was still resolute in his decision to remain in Nanda Parbat which should cause considerable friction between him and Bruce. And where does Dick fall in this situation? She knew that her beloved’s eldest was not a fan of her and wouldn't take too kindly to Damian’s existence, or keeping Jason’s existence a secret from them.

She shook the thoughts away from her mind, she would simply have to trust Tim for now. The door to her office opened as she began to plan for what might happen next.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The silence was deafening as Tim sat across from Bruce and Dick in his guest bedroom.

Bruce seemed to be processing his explanation of what he’s been up to until this moment. Dick had his head in his hands. Neither were taking things well. He watched as Bruce got up to stare at the window for a few moments before coming to sit back down.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” When B looked at his face, he seemed wearier than he had been before, the dark bags under his eyes were evidence of the weight on his mind since the start of this whole ordeal. 

“Well, you were not exactly in the best mindset to accept this information. I figured it would be best to keep you out of it until I could see for myself if it was real.” Tim answered honestly.

Bruce exploded at that. “What do you mean I wasn’t in the best mindset? I’m your guardian, your boss, your fa-. It’s my job to know where you are at all times and keep you safe!”

Tim too had reached his breaking point, “Keep me safe? Keep me safe? That’s what I’ve been doing for you ever since I became Robin! Were you keeping me safe when you beat up all those petty criminals back in Gotham? Or when you would disappear and leave me to inform the commissioner on cases? You were out of control Bruce, you were putting people in the hospital for simple muggings! You needed a Robin to calm you, to keep you in check.” 

He could see in Bruce’s eyes that he was faltering, “And I was right, I kept Jason’s resurrection from you because I knew that if it wasn’t true, if it ended up being just a fluke, you would simply shut yourself down even further and refuse to see reason. I had to make sure that my hypothesis was right before reaching out to you.”

“I- you- but,” Batman faltered as he met Tim’s eyes, storm gray met icy blue, and in that moment, Bruce felt a swirl of emotions with anger, disappointment, gratitude, failure, and love for his third child. How he wished he was a better father, to Jason, to Tim. He stood up, not breaking eye contact. 

Tim wished he knew what was going on in B’s mind at that moment, but all he could pick up on was a hurricane of emotions, not being able to place a single one. So there was no way in hell that he could have predicted what was about to come next. 

Bruce pulled him into a bone crushing hug, the first he had ever gotten from him.

There were obviously more issues that needed to be addressed, but for now, this was enough.

The two didn’t notice as Dick left the room, he had a lot on his mind and needed a moment alone to think.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He could understand why Tim didn’t want to drag Bruce into this, but why did he leave him out? What about Barbara and Alfred? They all saw Bruce go through this depressive state and yet he didn’t reach out to anyone else, he tried to shoulder this burden by himself. 

After all the two had gone through together, did he still not trust him? Why not tell him about Jason? He would have loved to help, and he would have kept it from Bruce. He slid down a wall, his head pounding, of course he would get a migraine now.

His head in his hands, he let his guard down in the heart of enemy territory, he didn’t notice the flash of black taking away a set of keys. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cass had done it. She had stolen from a protege of Batman. She had to admit, she thought that this was going to be much harder than it actually was, but then again, he was going through severe emotional turmoil, so it wasn’t exactly fair.

She quickly made her way back to her quarters. Her living space couldn’t have been more different than Jason or Damian’s large opulent studios, she only had a small windowless shack of a room, as her father requested. After all, weapons and tools don’t require more than a well insulated shed to be stored. A small pile of clothes and a pillow next to an exposed brick wall made up her bed. She curled up in her little bed pile and looked at her prize.

A set of keys needed to start the batplane. If Batman and co. wanted to leave Nanda Parbat, they needed to take her with them. Just a few more days and she’ll never have to see the face of the man who claims to be her father again. She’s seen Jason’s face when he talked about Bruce, there was anger, yes, but there was also fondness, nostalgia, and even the rare true smile of joy when he recounted his memories to her.

He didn’t need to be a good parent, just better than David Cain, and powerful enough to keep him away. Besides, even if she didn’t like him, she like Tim, Damian, and Jason well enough, and what she had heard about Dick along with her brief meeting with him seemed to paint him as a kind man who loved his family. She hoped that her new family would treat her better. Exhausted from the day’s events, she fell asleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason sighed as he stood before Dick. Dick had removed his mask so Jason could feel his baby blues stare into his soul. In a bid to cut the awkwardness, he tries to start a conversation, which fails terribly the moment he opens his mouth. “So, uh, how are things going back in Gotham?”

Dick lets out a hysterical laugh, “You come back from the dead and this is the first thing you ask me? No ‘hi Dick.’ ‘I missed you Dick.’ ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I came back from the dead Dick.’” 

Jason panicked, “I’m sorry! It’s just, I wanted some time for myself. After the pit I was in a fugue state and I only recently got my memories back, and you know, I just wanted to train so that I could eventually kill that damned clown.” Once the word vomit ended, Dick looked at his brother’s face to see him looking ashamed of himself. 

Jason knew that they didn’t exactly start off liking each other, what with replacing him as Robin and all, but they had grown closer over time. His emotions of late had mostly been anger and disappointment in Bruce, a melancholy nostalgia when thinking of Alfred, and resentment and outrage towards Tim, the last of which he only recently got over after meeting the kid for himself.

Dick took a step back, “I yeah, I guess that’s fair, lashing out at you wasn’t going to do any good.” He paused and turned to look at his baby brother, so much had changed, yet so much had remained the same. The shape of his eyes, the shade of his skin, and the way his speech combined the grit of Crime Alley and the poetry of Sylvia Plath, and yet so much had changed, his eyes were no longer pure blue and had instead taken on a tint of green, no doubt from the pit, he was taller, more muscular, and his face seemed to be set in a permanent frown.

“So things in Gotham have not actually been going great, uh, B didn’t really take your death well to say the least.” He said, scratching the back of his head. Jason gave a sardonic grin at that, “Yeah, I’ve heard. Tim told me he’s been babysitting B since he’s apparently lost all common sense.”

The grin turned into a scowl in a blink of an eye, rage bubbled up to the surface. If he had been so distraught at my death, why didn’t he kill the reason behind it? Why did he have to go around beating up low level crooks and muggers who merely want to make a living instead of finishing off the biggest reason for crime in the city? 

Jason steeled himself, but the brief change in expression already told Dick everything he needed to know. Jason catches his breath and motioned for Dick to sit in a chair as he himself sat on his bed. “We have a lot of catching up to do.” Dick cracks a smile, “Yeah, we do.”

[super-paper]

Do you think Hawks will die to save Toga?

Personally, I wouldn't like it if either of them died. Like, the potential narrative payoff here would be strongest if both of them lived, imo. I would rather see a situation where Keigo donates just enough blood to stabilize them both, rather than a situation where one person completely exsanguinates themselves and leaves behind a rash of trauma and unresolved feelings in the person they "saved."

I'm definitely not the best when it comes to Hawks meta, but I'll try my best to break down my personal feelings on why I feel both Keigo and Himiko need to live in order to "break the cycle":

1. You Can Start Over. I'll Help You.

This one's the biggest, most obvious point in favor of them both living imo. Hawks made an offer to help Jin start over, but rescinded that offer and immediately went for the kill the moment Jin showed signs of resistance. This was Keigo's biggest failure as both a hero and as an individual, and something he has yet to atone for.

In turn, Himiko believes there are no second chances-- that her only options are death or being locked away forever. So, she chooses death. She needs someone to offer her a third option.

The set up is there.

There's also the matter of Keigo and Himiko both stating that they want an "easier world" as their core motivation, and both of them state that they want to be the ones who help make that world.

Their goals only sound simplistic on the surface and serve as a mask for their respective traumas, but... ultimately, a world that's easier for Himiko to live in (where she is consensually given blood by someone who loves her and she is allowed to give her blood back to the world in return) is a world where heroes can finally take it easy-- because it's a world that nips the endless creation of its own "villains" in the bud, through unified acts of compassion and understanding.

Both characters have caused others intense pain and hurt others in their attempts to take shortcuts to the creation of an "easier world"-- Hawks is the hero that's "too fast," and Himiko is also associated with her near-supernatural speed. They're both too impatient and want the quickest possible results. Having both Himiko and Keigo living and learning the "right way" to create their ideal world-- and then, getting to be a part of that world as they both continue to atone-- feels much more meaningful than having one or both of them die before they can see that future reach fruition.

2. The Big, Suicidal Elephant in the Room

The majority of the LOV members all struggle with suicidal ideation-- Touya wants to set everything Endeavor ever chose over him ablaze, and he wants that inferno to also serve as his funeral pyre. Tomura has got a dissertation's worth of issues regarding his own mortality and self-perception/identity, and his whole "let's-just-destroy-it-all/we-don't-need-a-future-actually-lol" schtick has always been a symptom rather than a legit proposal for a cure. Himiko wants to disappear into the identities of the people she loves, because the world treats her a little more kindly when she isn't "Toga Himiko." The LOV trio's arcs all revolve around "death of the self" to some degree. (That said... resurrection and rebirth are also heavy themes within Tenko, Touya, and Himiko's arcs, soooo....)

Keigo also struggles with suicidal ideation and places the worth of his own life far, far, faaaaar below that of everyone else.

This has already been said, and shouldn't really need to be said in the first place, but-- people have every right to feel uncomfortable and criticize a story that attempts to validate suicidal characters by portraying their suicide in a noble/redemptive light.

Next!

3. It's All About All Mi-- Err..... Tomie?

"I was fine with that-- not saving her, turning my back on her. Me, who claims he wants to help people." - Hawks, about Tomie.

"I tried to go about things the right way" is a good line that touches on one of the core conflicts of Keigo's character: He suppresses so much of his natural instinct to do good so he can do "right."

Keigo knows in his heart of hearts that "the right way" doesn't save people like his mother, it didn't save Jin, and it's not going to save Himiko. He's been groomed into upholding the society and status quo that caused him and Tomie to nearly fall through the cracks in the first place-- and I've always found it both fascinating and sad that Keigo seems to equate choosing "the right way" (i.e. becoming a hero) to abandoning his mother. Keigo effectively being *sold* to the HPSC is what took Tomie off of the streets and gave her a roof over her head-- it gave her "a chance to start over." But Keigo doesn't seem to view this as true saving. With that in mind, his attempt to "save" Jin by essentially giving him the same offer the HPSC gave Tomie was always doomed end in failure.

Keigo: "My mother feared punishment for harboring a criminal, so she took me and ran."

Tomie first ran out of fear of being arrested after Takami Thief was captured-- which led to both her and Keigo being homeless for an extended period of time. She ran again after Dabi/Touya threatened her for information on Keigo, this time out of fear of her son-- a son who had became synonymous with "the law" she feared so much in her eyes. She can't bear facing him after her betrayal and implicitly fears punishment/condemnation from him (even though Keigo had *no* intention of punishing her)-- Tomie readily leaves behind the "normal" home and "normal" life that Hawks obtained for her through "doing things the right way," bc the imaginary threat of punishment and condemnation is something that comes across as worse for her. This only further convinces Keigo that he failed to save his mother, even though he's the one who's being betrayed and hurt by her.

I can't help seeing similarities between Tomie & Himiko's decisions to run out of an intense fear of punishment/imprisonment, and how this inevitably ties to Keigo. Keigo subconsciously realizes that he can't truly save people like Tomie, Jin, or Himiko as "Hawks" because "Hawks" is part of the problem. He longs to save others as himself-- as "Takami Keigo" (which is why the loss of his quirk kind of has me like "👀 👀 👀 whatcha gonna do next, turkey boy...,,..👀 👀 👀" )

As an aside, I seem to recall that transhawks made a few meta post where they talk about how there are traces of Jin's design in Tomie (esp her eyes, which have the same dead-eyed thousand yard stare) and that their resemblance is likely intentional (edit: link to one post pointing the resemblance out)-- It's not as overt, but imo, Himiko also resembles Tomie (just a little!) when she has her hair down.

Anyway! Both Jin and Himiko dying after Keigo A) has spent his whole life agonizing about how his own mother wasn't able to survive in their current society, B) has expressed guilt about how he didn't even try to save her and didn't make attempts to involve himself in her life, C) has talked at length about he wanted to be "more like Bubaigawara" and then proceeded to roleplay him, badly, for a good third of Act 3 (ohhhh boy ☠️☠️☠️), and D) had demanded that Toga be killed immediately after she arrives in Gunga, only for Ochako and Tsuyu to explicitly challenge and reject the idea that killing was the only option available.... idk, Himiko dying while Keigo does nothing would just feel massively incoherent at this point??

TL;DR The resolution to Keigo's arc currently hinges on addressing his origin, his identity, his guilt, and his ties to these three characters. Keigo feels that he failed with Tomie, and he explicitly failed with Jin-- and I personally don't think his arc can have a satisfactory ending without addressing those failures through Himiko, or without him trying to right where he went wrong by helping her in some capacity. This is a chance for him to finally follow his innate drive to do good over doing what their society dictates as "right."

----

All that being said, if Hori did decide to have Hawks sacrifice himself: Hawks choosing to sacrifice himself because he wants to believe in the future that the hero kids are creating and wants to believe that children like Himiko have a place in that future feels WAAAY more tonally consistent with mha's themes than Himiko choosing to sacrifice herself because she doesn't think she has a future

One message is about healing and hope and belief, the other is about failing to truly save someone who was already suicidal from their inevitable self destruction.

MHA has been defining true saving as "going above and beyond" for hundreds of chapters now-- true saving means saving a person's heart, body, and soul. It means giving them a future. By mha's own definitions, Himiko choosing to kill herself means she wasn't saved. Pure and simple-- You can't save the heart but not the body/soul (Himiko), you can't save the soul but not the body/heart (Touya), and you can't save the body but not the heart/soul (Tomura). There's a lot more work to be done here-- but that's fine, bc MHA has never depicted true saving or true healing as some magical, instantaneous thing. (#recoverygirldni)

[givehimthemedicine]

NINA and the magic of VHS ✨📼

I think I just figured out a big part of how NINA works. here's how Brenner is "altering" past events.

something just hit me about this footage that's been staring me in the face this whole time.

before I come to my Big Point, let me establish a few things:

the camera codes don't match

s4 keeps giving us camera POV footage that's labeled per camera. we see codes like CAM 071, CAM 039 and CAM 114.

what's weird about that? nothing, except... here are what the tape labels in the NINA library look like:

alphanumeric codes like CAM B2, CAM A5, CAM TR2. not a single one with just the three-digit numerical codes.

k, put a pin in that.

the NINA library is so spotty

Brenner tells El, "Everything that took place in my lab was captured on video tape. Every success and every failure."

but the dates we saw in that closeup are so sparse. it takes only a dozen tapes to span a month of footage leading up to the massacre (a time period you'd think they'd save every second of):

CAM B6 08-10-79 CAM B5 08-12-79 CAM A2 08-20-79 CAM B5 08-25-79 CAM TR1 09-2-79 CAM RR2 09-4-79 CAM C6 09-6-79 CAM RR1 09-6-79 CAM C4 09-7-79 CAM B5 09-7-79 CAM TR2 09-8-79

no idea what a lot of these camera codes denote, but it's not too hard to guess RR means Rainbow Room.

I can tell you off the top of my head that there are four cameras in the Rainbow Room. and one in each corner of the training rooms, at least one apiece in test rooms, bedrooms, hallways. at least one apiece in observation chambers of test rooms - otherwise the One banishment footage wouldn't exist (is that a bit odd now that I think of it?).

and that's not including the tripod cameras with which are recorded close up footage like plinko and the cat.

so, why so few dates and camera angles?

@lilly-flowerr once kindly calculated an estimate about how many VHS tapes would be produced from 100+ cameras' worth of continuous footage for the duration of the HNL program and the result was in the ballpark of several million.

tbf, Brenner never claimed this was all the footage. so I figured, likely, this library actually just houses a pared-down selection of footage relevant to the massacre.

but the problem with that idea is... consider how when we see El get NINA'd with RR footage: she's being shown four views of the room at once. that's already impossible, based on the selection we see available in the library. there aren't even four RR camera views represented on that shelf, let alone all from the same day.

pin that too.

live feeds vs playback

I thought hey, if those camera POVs had dates and everything on them, why isn't that stuff on El's NINA videos? are they hiding that data to facilitate screwing with her?!??

which, yeah. but here's the One banishment footage that Brenner watches alone. no dates on that either:

so I went to look for other times we've seen lab playback to see if there are ever dates.

Hopper checking out the pipe in season 1; Owens reviewing Will's checkup:

that's actually a plot point on the Hopper one because he decided the lab was lying to him about which night that footage was of - if the tapes showed dates onscreen, that wouldn't have been an issue.

so then I thought, ok, if that data doesn't appear on playback, it must only display on monitors showing live feeds, and that stuff doesn't actually get recorded onto it. right?

well here are some live lab feeds: El and the cat; detained Nancy and Jonathan; scientists watching Will's checkup; Owens directing Bob to safety from demodogs. no dates anywhere.

so... if there's no data on live feeds or on playback.... where ARE those dates on the NINA cameras being displayed? there's no internal viewer on those security cameras, like looking through a camcorder viewfinder, so it's not like it's merely "the camera's view" unseen by any actual entity.

so like... who's seeing that? how are we seeing that?

pin that too. I promise we're getting close.

OSD (on screen display)

quick bit of context for those who didn't grow up with VHS.

in VHS days, your video camera (if you had it configured to do so) would put the date onto your home movies. it wasn't a separate layer you could turn on/off after the fact, like DVD subtitles. if that feature was turned on while you were filming, that date was forever fused onto the footage itself. any time you ever played that tape back, you would see that date. there's no way to get rid of it.

osd however - PLAY PAUSE FFW and all that - those labels aren't fused onto the actual footage. they appear momentarily only as you navigate the tape with your VCR. DVD players do the same thing, you're probably familiar.

you can watch the osd labels appear/disappear as Joyce investigates Will's Halloween tape, while the date stays put.

they give us the live camera view of Bob (which has just the date) vs Joyce playing it back on her VCR later (which has the date and also osd). why the timestamps are different is a whoooooole other post.

so now that we're all on the same page about how dates vs. osd works on VCRs,

I'll bring you to the only time I DID find dates on lab playback:

4x6 when Brenner pops this tape in his VCR.

"who's even seeing those ?" Brenner. yeah, that's not my stunning realization. but look what we see up in the top left corner: osd. PLAY.

so here finally is my point: if PLAY appears on the screen as a result of Brenner hitting play on his VCR....

let me direct your attention to the upper left corner of that other footage:

those camera POV shots all say 🔴REC.

those aren't recordings.

they ARE recordING.

Brenner is taping these past events, live, during NINA.

"how do you explain Little El showing up in some of the camera povs? brainwash her all you want, but she would show up big on a tape being recorded in 1986."

indeed! which is why I'm not going so far as to claim Brenner is recording The Actual Past. what I do believe is that he's recording El's memories of the past, in which she is Little El.

"and how are you gonna say Brenner is able to record El's memories right out of her head with a VCR? yes this is fiction, but VHS technology isn't. c'mon."

it's not actually that far fetched! El canonically has a very similar ability - it's been swept under the rug in comparison to the glamor of telekinesis, not used since season 1, but it's well established:

she not only can hear people remotely, but also relay what only she is hearing via radio/intercom to where others can then hear it.

Brenner was filming this test on a tripod camera, which wouldn't have been affected by the cut in power that happened when El started relaying. so he walked away from this moment with a recording of something only El was able to hear.

which is exactly how NINA works. add video technology, and there ya go. if it didn't already exist in 1983, this scene was Brenner discovering the concept.

onward:

Brenner's tapes aren't the tapes El is being shown.

watch this in 4x7: he inserts this tape, hits play, and then we cut to El in NINA, watching all the monitors flash to life with footage of herself in the infirmary for her bullying concussion.

the implication from the editing is that this particular VHS yields that particular footage for El to watch, but that's a false assumption they want us to make.

first, playing one VHS doesn't result in several screens with different footage rolling all at once. one VHS only holds one camera feed. all NINA's monitors can't be fed by one VCR.

second, "Infirmary" would most likely be abbreviated "I" or "IR". the tape he played said CAM TR2, which could stand for either Training Room or Test Room. El experiences 9/8/79 "memories" of both, so I'm not sure which this would be. regardless, it's not Infirmary.

third, as we've covered before, all the lab footage El is shown inside NINA is devoid of dates and cam codes. that's not characteristic of the tape we saw Brenner play in his VCR.

fourth, as we also covered before, not all the camera angles El's seeing are even represented on that shelf of massacre-month tapes.

so Brenner may indeed have captured everything in his lab on video tape, but the VHS library we and El are shown while he says that? pretty sure that's NOT what these tapes are.

it's implied that he's popping tapes into his VCR at the same time El's off in her memories. but if it's not for the purpose of showing them to her.... what is he doing with his?

"but nat, his finger hit play, not record."

well they're not gonna SHOW us him hitting record or we'd guess!

he's hitting play to get the tape queued up to the right spot to record on, which you gotta do with a VHS or else you could overwrite something important that's already on there.

if Brenner is recording whatever El is seeing, wouldn't that help explain:

the varying appearance of El as both big and little within the camera povs. at this moment, El is big because she's aware she's her current self (she's fully conversing with Brenner). this is definitely not really past footage, because it's not like Little El stood up on a chair and yelled into a camera in 1979. after this point though, she accepts what's going on and submits to the "memories" in which she is little, so she's seeing herself as little, so from then on she appears as Little El on the fresh tapes.

the different camera labeling within NINA and its library of tapes - they need to differentiate between old/real/fake/new camera views.

the sparsity of the VHS library - maybe only key moments need to be overwritten

this camera-yelling moment actually is a potential match for one of the tapes on the shelf. it's Sept 4, 1979, and it's in the Rainbow Room. CAM 071 09/04/79 could be the overwriting of CAM RR2 09-4-79. on the other hand, if that were true I'd expect to also see 09-4-79 training room and hallway footage to match those other povs we saw, and I don't, so idk.

the light circle game is the only NINA footage we ever get to see both live camera POV and playback of (although it's not actually the same moment, the dates and cams are different). the numeric camera code on both of these is part of my support for the numeric camera codes representing new footage.

regarding the date and cam code being different on those two bits of nearly identical footage…. what if I... plugged this into Multiplayer NINA theory real quick and said that maybe CAM 126 is fake-old footage that's been more recently rerecorded in someone else's NINA? that maybe that's what's on all of Brenner's tapes before he records El's new stuff onto them?

so here's my current thinking of how NINA works:

decide how you wish El remembered an event and compile cherrypicked real footage and/or staged footage supporting your version of events.

manipulate and gaslight El so that she doubts the veracity of her own memories.

drug her and throw her in a sensory deprivation tank where your selected footage clockwork-oranges her into "fully re-experiencing" your version of events.

presto! the most powerful person in the world now believes your version of events is true because she genuinely remembers it.

by means of El's electronic relay abilities (induced with a buttload of drugs), these false memories that only El is seeing, inside her mind, are displayed for all to see on monitor in NINA's control room.

pop a plain old tape into a plain old VCR and hit record, capturing whatever's on the monitor.

presto! now you have irrefutable original video footage of a past event that never happened.

now you can show that proof to someone else - the government, the media.... or perhaps more importantly another NINA subject, as an ingredient in your tampering with their memories.

so. I can't prove the ol' MindFucker4000 is also a time machine, not in this post, but I do still feel like there's time stuff involved as well. because I can't think of a way right now to claim that recording someone's manipulated memory of the past actually changes that past, meddles with timelines, etc.

can you? I don't have all the nuts and bolts ironed out, but I welcome your thoughts while mine gel!

[sou-ver-2-0]

This is a bit of a random thought, but since *anyone* can technically die in the deatn game, what if Joe was the only one to survive the First Trial, and the end where Sara died continued? It seems that she has a strong connection to the game, so her absence would be interesting. I wonder how it would affect the group, too -- Sou wouldn't be wary of her, but may suspect Joe due to their connection, and Keiji wouldn't have Sara to act as a "leader" role. Kai may not take it well, either.

That’s a worthy question! I’m sure a lot of us got that “game over” in the first trial. I, for one, was motivated to give Joe the key because I deduced, “I can’t die, I’m the protagonist! The world can’t exist without me!” But what would happen if it could? What happened in the all the worlds created by those “game overs”?

I agree with you that those four characters would be the ones most affected by Sara’s death. Joe would visibly mourn Sara, while Kai would likely try to mourn her in silence. Meanwhile, with Miss 15.5% dead, Shin would not have such a ready-made rival. I imagine that Shin would concentrate his worst fears onto Keiji instead. (Which sounds like what he should have done from the beginning, honestly. If you look past the strange papers for one second, then Keiji is realistically much scarier than a teenage girl. That was Nao’s very reasonable reaction upon meeting them both!) And what would Keiji do? I’ve been operating under the assumption that Keiji knew Sara was strong from the start. If Sara were gone, then suddenly Keiji is the strongest person in the group. Perhaps Keiji would assume the leadership role himself in this scenario? It’s not like he has to suck up to anyone else! The odds are in his favor now.

Now that I think of it, Keiji might be a more frightening figure in this scenario? We like to think that he has a soft spot for Sara based on their alliance. Without that alliance to soften Keiji’s heart, would he succumb more quickly to selfish temptations?

Unless, Keiji were to develop a soft spot for Joe instead? I think that would depend on whether Keiji realizes that Joe is (almost definitely) the son of his childhood hero. If Keiji figured that out, he’d have warring temptations to either protect the boy (emotion) or to stay far away from him (logic), and he could go either way, depending on the type of story you want to tell. Although, he might not even figure it out…

How would Shin react to Joe in a world where Sara is dead? He might be wary of him, as you suggested. It makes sense to be wary of someone connected to Miss 15.5%. However, if I may… Joe is extremely vulnerable in this AU. He just lost his best friend. He would even feel responsible for her death! Joe would be in Kanna’s shoes. What if Shin took pity on Joe, like he takes pity on Kanna? What if Shin even saw himself in the traumatized high school boy who lost his best friend?

Shin is in a very different mindset at the start of the Death Game. He’s much more timid and polite. Even though he just made the decision to abandon his name, I don’t think he’s totally consumed by the “Sou persona.” And now that I’m picturing Shin taking pity on Joe, I’m wondering if Shin might have even taken pity on Sara! What if she was the one to emerge from the First Trial in mourning, and Joe died at the very beginning? What if Miss Sara was more obviously similar to Kanna from the start? Could that revelation break through Shin’s paranoia and help him see reason? (This isn’t the AU you asked about, but it’s where my mind naturally wanders!)

Back to our AU where Sara is dead. Joe is an extremely pitiable figure here. I imagine that everyone would feel some degree of sympathy for him. Reko and Professor Mishima would surely treat him as kindly as they treated Kanna. Joe would be in horrible pain, but maybe the kindness from others could help him move forward.

Thinking about Kai in this AU makes me sad. He’s already such a lonely person. I think he is the loneliest of them all. If Miss Sara died in her First Trial, he would mourn her, but it would be extremely difficult for him to show his feelings. So he wouldn’t receive as much sympathy as Joe! I can also imagine him losing the will to live…

��Although, now that I’m imagining Kai losing the will to live, could that make him more reckless? Instead of staying silent for fear of everyone voting for him, what if Kai decided to be more forthcoming earlier on? I mean…what would he have to lose? That could change a lot!

So far, I’ve just focused on the few members of our group who had a connection to Sara. I feel like I should also say that characters like Nao, Kanna, Gin, Alice, Reko, and even Q-Taro would be different in this AU. Nao says in the beginning that she doesn’t trust Keiji, but she trusts Sara. Without Sara present, it’s possible that the group might have a harder time bonding and learning to trust each other. It depends if other characters are able to fill in her charismatic shoes. Sara brings a genuine warmth to the table which Keiji struggles with. It’s certainly easy to imagine Nao descending into hysteria in this AU. (Although it would be nice if other characters stepped up to help her! Again—it really depends on what type of story you want.)

And of course! The person I’m most curious about in this AU is Meister himself! How would he react to the High School Girl’s early death? If the Death Game is really all about Sara, is it possible he’d even call the whole thing off? Or would he move chess pieces to favor a different candidate instead? Anything is possible with the mysterious mastermind behind the game! Personally, I’m very excited to learn more about him, because I enjoy gambling characters. Characters who have lost so much that they will take enormous risks. If Meister truly wants Sara to win, it’s astounding that he would risk an 84.5% chance of her losing. But I don’t think that makes him stupid. I think it makes him feel wildly desperate, which is a compelling character trait. Taking great risks can lead to failure, and they usually do, but they can also lead to great rewards.

(This is also part of why I love Shin so much. His plans may look foolish, but he’s really just desperate enough to gamble with death, and those risks still manage to take him pretty far! And that’s exciting to watch!)

How might Meister behave in a world where his gamble failed? I’d love to know that. There are many gameovers in YTTD, and I’d assume he’s disappointed with the Player in each one.

Thank you for this question! I enjoyed it a lot.

[neoculturetechxgot7]

Gardenia on the crown - J.J.H

4; dreams of sunshine eyes

pairing: Jung Jaehyun × Reader

genre: angst and the shy touches of fluff

length: around 2,5k words

warnings: mild swearing

// masterlist //

``

Starry flames flicker on the hundreds of candles saturating the ballroom with golden hues, reflecting on expensive pearls and tangling through lace trim and floral paterns. Nobility swirls around the soft notes of violin and piano, men in tailored suits kindly asking for the pale hand of shy princesses, inviting them to a dance that will stain the night with their scent.

You’re standing in middle of it all, fitted flawlessly in the embrace of a young prince's arms and slowly losing your sanity to the sight of his stunning features, iridescent shadows from the crystal chandeliers casting a sparkling galaxy on his skin. His eyes, those that captured your thoughts from the very moment their Egyptian caramel shade dipped into your soul, still have you mesmerized and utterly lost in their enigmatic depths.

He spins you around so gently, cremé gown blooming around your ankles in the heated rhythm and a moment later, you feel his fingertips sear a temptingly slow path around your waist when you step forward.

"You haven't told me your name yet..." A breathless whisper falls from your lips, accompanied by the over-accelerated pound of your heart. The charming stranger who managed to gather all of your attention to the excellence of his dance and the alluring electricity beaming from his entire presence is still hiding behind anonymity. The ache to discover something as simple as his name is swallowing you alive.

"My name is Jung Jaehyun, my lady...”

You wake up suffocated in the cradle of cloud coloured sheets, nightgown clinging low on your decolté and a rushed pulse racing through your veins. Midday sun refracts from the window, brushing peachy shimmer on your skin and a sweet heat around the endless void of the room.

Yet, somehow, your body feels absolutely numb. That night... Your brain is playing the filthiest game by reminding you of it.

Your glance swivels around the intricately decorated wooden furniture in protest to your mind trying to shove more images of that dying dream before your eyes. Sweaty fingers reach up to rub them a little too harsh, leaving you with a shadowed vision of a vortex of colours and a low sigh dips past your lips.

If you only knew that magical night would be your very first meeting with the devil personified, you would've locked yourself in the cozy escape of the underground library, or your room or maybe the kitchens...Hell, even the moldy, freezing dungeons your father caged criminals in would seem like a better option than being in that ballroom, at that time, with him...

Two sharp knocks on the door slice through your self-pity thoughts just as you're about to hop off of the comforting warmth of the bed, naked feet hitting hardwood floor.

"Come in!“ You shout, hands instinctively tugging on the white silk of your tiny sleeping dress to conceal the exposed expanse of your chest.

But the relieving sight of your maid has your limbs going slack as she walks in, a smile on her face that makes some type of jubilation sizzle under your skin.

"My Lady, you're finally awake!" The girl chirps with the lightness of her kind heart and then quickly trods towards your still seated form. "Will you be attending the morning assembly in the dinner hall or would you prefer breakfast in bed?"

At her mention of any kind of...well...social interaction with the arrogant existence of the royals, your body goes limp and fluffy pillows hug your backside as you fall back. The sole idea of seeing Jaehyun again exhausts you. It's barely been a day since you first arrived and his face is plastered everywhere. Even your damn dreams...

The maid presses her lips in an empathetic line before sparing you the most understanding of all glances. Oh, she knows better than anyone how you'd hate to see that man after having spent the entirety of last night listening to a nice, long monologue of unspeakable and profane adjectives to describe your soon-to-be husband.

Sometimes you wonder what level of patience one must hold to be able to withstand your -borderlone hysterical- hate speeches.

"I'll inform his wonderful grace of your absence, my Lady." With that sarcasm dipped remark, the girl pivots on her heels and strides towards the door, blush skirt flowing behind her. "And bring you some breakfast."

"Thank you."

♤

You finish the very rich meal within minutes -the cooks around this place are priceless, a blessing for your tastebuds- and after a little bit of sinking in a puddle of self loath and cursing your failure of a fate, you decide to distract your mind by simply getting lost in the magic of a book. Literature is a hidden paradise for you, poetry, a little heaven.

Back home, you'd always have a book resting by the wooden extend of your nightstand, every night fading between yellowed pages and inked words that took you on a trip to fantasia. Maybe reading something can help now too...right?

No.

Because you're running a dainty finger over the red and black book spines lining every shelf of the grand bookcase only to skim the leather binding of old catalogues and dictionaries. Your eyes frantically scan each and every title in search of the slightest trace of good, classic literature, those pieces that leave you gasping after the very last sentence, but to no avail. Annoyed at the obvious lack of quality writings, you pull one of the many useless books out, trying to check if the one behind it, on the inner lining, is any different.

An hour later there's a sea of stacked books expanding on the floor of your bedroom, over the oak bureau by the window and some even sprawled across your unmade bed, yet nothing seems close to your taste. You found a couple of fairytales, the ones mothers escort their kids with to the sweetness of sleep. Even dug out a little notebook full of scraped poetry, written in midnight ink and infinite pages of dreamy calligraphy. But it didn't really pick at your interest either, so it now lays untouched on your nightstand, keeping company to ruby necklaces and a porcelain vase filled with roses.

Your knees bend over the plush mattress as you take a good seat in the boredom that has already started to define this day. With nothing else to do but stay in your room and stare at the elegant carvings on the walls, your pinky is twitching; sign of the bottled up energy that's currently restricted due to your absolute refusal of meeting eyes with the royals.

If only you weren't this stubborn and lowered that ego, maybe today wouldn't completely go to waste...

Then, something tickles at the back of your head; an idea?

A library. They must have one here, right?

Maybe visiting the palace library will be a convenient option. You can still spent time alone, buried in the wrinkled edges of lettered paper, while also keeping that well needed distance from Jaehyun and his awful family.

But then again, you don't even know how to get there and the so unpleasant possibility of bumping into too familiar faces has your skin coated in a drizzle of coldness.

Even so, your feet subconsciously plant onto polished floor and lead you to the door, expensive golden silk with embroidered morning stars blossoming around your ankles. It takes you no time to step delicately into those pointed heels that clank an air of intimidation with every step, as you -for the umpteenth time- curse every forsaken force in this damned universe for binding you with such a fate.

Having to sneak out of your own royal chamber like a common fugitive simply to enjoy the smallest comfort of reading a book. Pathetic, to say the least.

♤

You find yourself striding down the seemingly endless stretch of a hallway, peach tinted light bouncing of off smooth stone that arches into a high ceiling. Large, curved openings formed the one side and thick marble columns separate them.

It took a lot of wandering around wide halls and visiting two of the many towers of this palace for you to reach this point, the faintest wave of spring heat kissing your neck and cheeks as a reward. Surprisingly enough, you were met with no person you knew, only kindy greeted by maids dressed in creamy beige, a humble smile on their faces. Once, you actually happened to spot -what you thought would be- one of the ladies of the court and her small escort following shortly behind, heavy gowns of cotton and purple satin flowing with her every delicate step. She bore an almost blank expression, lips pressed together in a manner that made you wonder if she disliked this place as much as you did.

Taking a peak outside the enormous windows, you realise you're walking the perimeter of a circular yard, the expanse of its area covered in emerald, neatly cut lawn. A whole lot of people are gathered, small kids playing around with leather balls, servants scurrying to get some random task done and a big group of men standing on the very middle, some carrying weapons of all sorts.

With feet inching closer to the stone edge, your stare rakes their sun bathed faces and thankfully you recognize none. They are all of noble ascent, from what you can tell at that distance, golden threaded crests decorating the corners of their uniforms.

While your eyes fight to grab onto the stitched details, they happen to -so tragically- fall straight onto another pair of breathtaking brown orbs and within a fracture of a heartbeat you're pulling back and hiding behind the column.

Fuck.

Momentarily, the edges of your vision blacken as you suck in hungry inhales, a nice bunch of profanities roaring in your head to mix with the thumping in your ears.

You just can't avoid him, can you?

Shaking your head to get rid of the slight panic possessing it, you slowly slide to the side again, solely to catch another glimpse of Jaehyun. He’s surrounded by a small crowd of men, holding a steady grip on a steel forged sword that's so well polished it seems almost like platinum.

What a sight.

His glove clad fingers tighten as he ducks to an attack stance, raising the light reflective metal in the air as if it's the lightest feather. You notice the absolute perfection in his technique, balanced from the very handle all the way to the sharp tip and can't help but admire how, the next second, it comes down to slice morning breeze and barely scratch Jaehyun's opponent. He's incredibly skilled, every move laced with such precision, and you notice the subtle flames his eyes emit when seizing each chance.

The other is quick to deflect any incoming hits, but still overwhelmed by their lighting speed and strength that eventually goes in for an attack himself. He bringing his own blade up and aims for the prince's chest, leaving you watching with complete devotion to the scene, as he takes a hasty step forward.

Something inside your chest clenches in such an unexplainable manner and time itself dramatically unfolds, each second slower than the previous.

But then, Jaehyun ends the match with a swift and simple dodge to the side, sword simultaneously flying to crash against the side of his opponent's armor with a loud, echoing bang.

He should’ve watched the ribs. Always watch the ribs, you think while gazing the loser gasp in slight pain.

The nobles all around the young prince cheer -much like you do on the inside without realising-, yelling out praises along with a well-deserved applause as he drops his heavy weapon, that sunshine blessed smile making another appearance. His cheekbones literally shimmer with the milky glow of victory, all of that aristocracy putting even the highest of angels to shame. He stands proud and tall, fingers carelessly ruffling auburn strands of auburn hair, their tips dripping sweat but still giving him the look of effortless beauty.

You're about to retreat back to the shadows and run away before your body gets completely enchanted by the spell of his irresistible attractiveness...but that ice in the pit of his gaze cuts straight through your unprotected soul once his head turns.

You're suddenly frozen in place, prematurely surrendered to the way his eyebrows furrow and your expectation is yet another cocky grin and probably another stupid comment meant to irritate you the moment you face him. If it weren't for the starstruck expression plastered on your face, mouth slightly agape, maybe it wouldn't have been this bad but no, that's not the case today.

It's pretty damn obvious you've been watching, pretty damn obvious you've been lurking like a creep and gawking over the impressive ability of fighting he has conquered.

And he's well aware of that fact because those pearly, white teeth get covered by a way too smug and way too annoying smirk, it's curvy edge cutting through your dignity harder than any knife ever could. You note the way his chest heaves from the lightness of a chuckle.

Oh the embarrassment, oh the pain of your intimidating facade being all wrecked down in a split second.

If only never seeing him again was an option...lf only you could stay away from his stupid beauty and bluntly cold demeanor...

"Greetings, my Lady." A honeyed voice suddenly disrupts your desperation, causing your reflexes to stick your back falt against the smooth stone in horror.

Yet when your gaze snaps to the source of those words, you find a curious and somewhat charming a pair of sunshine filled eyes trained on your form. A toothy grin, white and beaming with luxury, is spread across the young man's face, a perfect contrast to his autumn skin.

Taking in a short breath of relief, your royal instincts kick in and you bow respectively at the gentleman, while he moves forward, hands folded behind his back in a kind manner. "Good morning my Lord."

"I'm afraid I do not recognise your face, darling. Are you new around here, perhaps?" He asks and it seems as if heaven lost one of its angels; his whole being radiating a unique kind of divinity as he stands so confidently.

"Oh yes." Your knees bend once more as you quickly introduce yourself, trying to sound as formal as possible, getting over the previous scare. "My name is (Y/N) of the (Y/L/N) dynasty and I'm present here as the rightful betrothed of prince Jaehyun."

His eyelids momentarily shot open after hearing your title, almost in shock, and that smile flashes impossibly brighter before he bends in respect. You feel warm fingers snake behind your own and with an airy pull he places a fragile peck on the back of your palm, as soft as freshly picked petals, to make you shudder.

"I'm so delighted to finally meet your grace. I am prince Heachan, cousin of your beloved."

You internally cringe at that last comment...As if Jaehyun and his wholesome stupidity could ever be loved...

"Nice to meet you too, prince Heachan." Your reply comes with a slight tilt of your head, pleasantly surprised at how well behaved and gentle he looks and acts, despite being a member of that horrible family.

Heachan takes a short look around, as if searching for something, and then aims his friendly glare back at you, this time baring a questioning expression. "And you're here without your escort?"

Your shoulders quickly stiffen, realising you have to explain yourself for carelessly wandering around the palace without a single maid accompanying you, something highly unusual for someone of your importance.

He notices that and chuckles and your heart softens at the way the apples of his cheeks shine with such a dull pink.

"Well, I'm looking for the library and..." Your eyes trail a regretful path down the hem of your dress, feeling a little embarrassed at the words you're about to speak. "I think i got lost..."

The boy laughs again, this time a little louder and more genuinely, one hand propping on his waist, sinking into the bejeweled red velvet of his shirt while the other makes an airy gesture. "This definitely isn't the library, or anywhere close to it, dear."

He extends an inviting palm, eyes glimmering with traces of a blazing summer and the tint of pure gold as he continues. "But I can take you there, if you please."

//

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[ladylilithprime]

Sastiel Creations Challenge | @ladylilithprime

↳ Theme: One More | Prompt: Day

Fluff Bingo Square: Movie Night

=I Did Not Live Until Today=

Read on AO3

MOVIE NIGHT IN the Bunker had been originally instituted by Dean, and the insistence of Sam that everyone in the Bunker, especially a stressed out and overworked teenaged Prophet of the Lord, needed to take regular breaks to relax and unwind before the constant "go, go, go" made them all go crazy. Hunts would occasionally interrupt the ritual, postpone it for a couple of days, but none of them were allowed more than ten days without a mandatory Movie Night. Dean had insisted that Castiel join these movie nights whenever he was around, intent on "educating" the Angel in what he termed the "classics" of cinema. Castiel had confided privately to Sam that, upon viewing these so-called classics, he was gaining more of an understanding of Dean than he was of why the movies were classical, which Sam had assured him was normal.

Movie Night had been weird after the Trials, because Sam would start out watching the movie with Dean and whoever else was there, but suddenly it would be hours later and he wouldn't remember actually watching any of it despite not having moved. In the wake of Crowley showing up in Sam's head with the brothers' code word tripping off his tongue to warn him that he had an angelic passenger who had taken over the driver's seat, Sam figured he knew what had happened and maybe he felt a little tiny flicker of gratitude for Gadreel sparing him having to watch the monkey movies again, but that was drowned out by the overall feelings of shock and betrayal and rage because how could Dean do this to him?!

It was Sam's decision to continue Movie Night even though it was just him and Castiel in the Bunker now. The original purpose of enforcing a break on overworked humans was still valid, even though now the overworked human was only Sam, and the secondary purpose of introducing Castiel to human entertainment was also still in effect, perhaps even more so after Metatron had downloaded a huge selection of American pop culture into Castiel's head without much in the way of context. Without Dean to steer the selection towards action films and neither of them particularly interested in watching mindless violence and gore, plus Sam's increased aversion to psychological horror films, the movies they watched tended to veer more towards musicals. If Castiel suspected that this, too, might be a bit of Sam's rebellion against Dean's stubborn adherence to mullet rock as the only valid music to listen to, well, he didn't call Sam on it and Sam didn't choose to admit anything.

Tonight was another designated Movie Night, not because it had been too long since the last, but because Sam knew that after the failure of the tracking spell with Gadreel's extracted Grace he, at least, needed something where the fate of the world was less dependant on the outcome. In hindsight, queueing up Les Miserábles was probably not the best idea given the overall setting of the movie and the themes of melancholy and grief that pervaded it, but he suspected Castiel would appreciate the other themes of faith and sacrifice and second chances.

He probably should have expected Castiel's analysis of the story's themes to extend to their lives, but somehow it didn't even occur to him until Castiel blindsided him with an abrupt declaration that Jean Valjean reminded him of Sam.

"I'm sorry?" Sam blurted, not sure he had heard the Angel correctly.

"He is a good man who committed criminal acts for a good cause and was harshly punished for it even after his incarceration ended," Castiel explained, gesturing to the screen where Valjean's pay was docked in front of the other workers, who were openly hostile. "It does not matter to these people that his intentions were noble - to feed his family - or that the crime was relatively minor, all they see is the criminal record and discount the good heart of the man who committed it and is stained by that record in the eyes of the society he serves."

"Cas, that's not... I started the Apocalypse!" Sam said, shaking his head. "That's a good bit worse than stealing a loaf of bread and running."

"You killed a demon," Castiel disagreed. "A demon you had been told by everyone around you was responsible for breaking Seals and that killing her would stop things. You were deliberately not told that she was the final Seal and that killing her would release Lucifer because enough angels, myself included, believed that if you knew the truth then you would not have killed her. Yet you do not blame me for lying to you, or for changing my mind and breaking through my conditioning too late to send Dean in time to stop you. Nor do you blame Dean for breaking under Alistair and being the one to break the first Seal which set things in motion. Instead, you continue to allow people, including Dean who should really know better, to cast the blame for things beyond your control onto your shoulders and even take on blame and responsibility where there should be none, forgetting that any penance required for playing a part long ago set out for you has been more than served."

Sam looked away from Castiel's placid, deeply knowing expression, but found he couldn't focus on the screen until a flash of silver catching light drew his attention. "Look, I don't... whatever redemption I might have earned with jumping has to be cancelled out by the things I did after getting out again, especially all the crap I pulled without my soul--"

"Do you think yourself responsible for your soulless self's actions, even though your soul was still in the Cage being subjected to Michael and Lucifer's torments?" Sam frowned a little at the low notes of guilt and sorrow in the Angel's voice and looked over, but Castiel wouldn't meet his eyes, staring instead at the screen as the old priest backed up Valjean's lie of gifted silver and gave over the candlesticks as well. "Hm. Heaven has not treated you nearly so kindly as this priest does..."

"Castiel," Sam started to reach out, but found his courage falter and lowered his hand with a sigh. "I know you didn't leave my soul behind on purpose. I knew it then, too, even with you keeping secrets and never having mentioned it before that moment... sorry, too, about the holy fire."

"There is no apology necessary," Castiel refuted, though Sam thought he looked moderately grateful for it anyway. "You were right to be suspicious of my actions and motives at the time, if not for that specific reason."

"Still..."

"Sam, I assure you, I hold no ill will over your suspicion of me, nor for your actions to try and stop me. If anything, I am deeply grateful for your continued faith in me even after I had gone off the reservation and done you considerable harm." Castiel shook his head. "We are getting away from the main subject, which is that you are not responsible for the actions your body committed without your soul present."

"It was still my body," Sam argued. "My... impulses or whatever, stripped of my inhibitions--"

"Not true," Castiel interrupted. "Stripped of your higher empathic functions and natural moral compass that is your soul, your body behaved with logical precision not unlike how most Angels would act. While that behavior likely seemed heartless or 'dickish' at times, this was in part because of the contrast to your usual compassion and kindness, but you weren't actively malicious or uncontrolled. Everything, including the decision to go to Dean with the suspicion that something was wrong and to ask him to be your moral compass, was meticulously and logically thought out and reasoned for the most optimal outcome. Recall that your soulless self felt that it was for the best that your soul be retrieved and rejoined with your body, and only rejected the plan when the possibility that doing so would kill you was presented."

"Whereupon I promptly tried to kill Bobby! Cas--"

"Sam," Castiel turned fully to face him and glared at him in a way that reminded Sam forcefully of the fact that this was an Angel of the Lord. "You. Are. Not. To. Blame. Your soulless self attempted to kill a man who showed every sign of being ready to kill you by forcefully reuniting your damaged soul with your body. A soul, I must add, which did not deserve the torment inflicted upon it and to which we owed the continued existence of the human race."

"I was just--"

"Cleaning up your mess, so you've said." Castiel was beginning to look frustrated. "But the Apocalypse was not just your mess. It was Dean's, and mine, and Lucifer's, and Michael's, and every angel and demon and human servant of either side who worked towards setting it off earlier than my Father planned. I would even venture to say that it was my Father's fault for refusing to step in when, despite Raphael's delusions, we had very clear evidence from Joshua that He is still alive and close enough to be aware of the situation." The Angel reached forward then and covered the shell-shocked human's nearest hand with his own. "Your soulless self recognized that, and recognized the unfair imbalance, and quite rightly called us out on our lack of respect for you and your sacrifices. Since regaining your soul, Dean's insistence on leaving past transgressions in the past except when it suits him to drag them out as evidence of culpability and questionable judgement has driven your self-confidence down to the point where you have even allowed Dean to make you believe yourself at fault for not looking for a brother and non-human friend whom you had every reason to believe were dead and at peace.

"No more," Castiel said with a fire in his vessel's blue eyes that had nothing to do with his borrowed Grace. "Sam Winchester, you will listen to me and believe this if nothing else: You. Deserve. Respect. And for my part in allowing others to be negligent in giving you that respect, you have my apologies."

For a long moment, Sam could do nothing more than stare at Castiel, stunned speechless and feeling more than a few echoes of the old awe and wonder with which he had first viewed this Angel of the Lord who had saved his big brother from Hell. It seemed impossible to believe, even with Castiel staring into him and all but demanding that he do so. For all he knew, he had fallen asleep on the couch next to Castiel and all of this was somehow some sort of incredibly vivid dream like the ones he tried to pretend he didn't have about the Angel, because if anything stood a chance at making their current arrangement far more awkward than it ever needed to be....

Castiel must have seen something of his thoughts in his expression, because the intensity faded into sadness and then, before Sam could gather his wits enough to try and reassure him, turned to resolve. "I will remind you of this conversation later, so as to establish better credibility."

"Um..." Sam blinked. That was unexpected. "Okay? Thanks? I'll... work on believing you, Cas, I will, I just...."

"Have several years of conditioning for expecting the worst to work around, as well as the more recent problems with maintained perception of reality," Castiel nodded. "I will remind you as often as is necessary of your worth and worthiness."

Sam nodded, more for the lack of any other way to acknowledge Castiel's words than out of agreement or understanding, jumping a little when the music from the television screen picked up in volume. He turned back to the movie, flushing darkly when he realized that they'd completely missed Fantine's entire arc and Valjean's crisis of conscience, and reached for the remote. "Oh, hey, let me--"

"No, it's--" Castiel's grip on Sam's hand tightened, then released with enough abruptness that Sam found himself stopping anyway, turning questioning eyes on Castiel. "I confess that I have been, ah, 'cheating' with this film, as it is one of the stories that Metatron saw fit to share, though not this particular version."

"Should we put on something else?"

"If that is what you prefer. I am enjoying watching it with you regardless."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if that was because of Castiel's bizarre comparisons between Sam and Valjean, but he swallowed it back and instead forced himself to settle back into the couch beside Castiel to watch the introduction to the Thénardier family and Cosette. The silence stretched between them as the music played, until--

"Sam? Why is Thénardier's wife making that gesture when she sings that there is 'not much there'?"

Sam swallowed down the urge to choke or laugh, because of course Castiel would ask about that. He cut a sharp glance in the Angel's direction to check if he was being trolled, but Castiel's expression showed only genuine puzzlement. "Uh... Well, I mean, uh... some guys get kinda hung up on penis size, uh, taking the whole 'bigger is better' idea way too seriously and, uh, thinking that bigger size makes them better able to please their partners, which, uh, really isn't true across the board. And, uh, there are a lot of guys who think that having those, um, extra inches is all they need for it to be good for their partner, which also isn't true." He found himself looking at the screen in a gambit to not have to meet Castiel's eyes, and moments later he pointed. "See, she's saying the line again without the gesture. So, uh, the implication is Thénardier falls doubly short of the mark."

"I see," Castiel said, his tone meditative. With his eyes averted, Sam couldn't see the speculative look the Angel sent in his direction, though he definitely heard the pointedly dry tone when Castiel added, "Mrs Thénardier would do better to find a more skilled pizza man."

Sam jerked his head around to stare at Castiel again, but this time the Angel's expression was the same sort of bland that he used when trolling Dean, and so Sam managed to force out a chuckle for the joke before settling in to watch the dynamics between the Thénardiers and Cosette with its very Cinderella vibe. Castiel muttered something about "punching John Winchester again" that made no sense and Sam wasn't sure he wanted to know about anyway, and then made a brief comment about Cosette's dream being similar to many human interpretations of Heaven, but otherwise said nothing until Valjean told Cosette that he was now her father.

"Another parallel," he said. Sam, who had hoped Castiel had forgotten about his weird fixation by this point, blinked in confusion.

"Uh, Cas, I'm pretty sure I haven't gone and adopted any random kids," he pointed out. Really, that seemed more like something Dean would do than him, Dean actually really liked kids and liked the idea of being a dad while Sam... not so much.

"Random, no," Castiel agreed. "You are, however, extraordinarily compassionate. I suspect that, if presented with an orphaned child whose situation required more specialized guardianship than a more normal human fosterage system could provide, you would be an excellent parental figure." He was silent for a moment, pensive and troubled, and then said, softly, "I had never had Nephilim of my own, nor am I likely to do so in the future, but if I did and was unable to care for the child myself, I would ask you."

"Me?" Sam gaped at him. "I mean, why me? Why not Dean?"

"Dean has an unfortunate history of being less than tolerant of supernatural occurrences, of children with powers beyond most human capabilities," Castiel said, shooting an apologetic glance at Sam even before Sam was aware of wincing. "A Nephil would inevitably have powers, and I am a Seraph. Only an Archangel could overpower and suppress the Grace of a Nephil sired by me, and there are no more Archangels available to do so. You have powers of your own and training in using them, albeit with an enhancement method that I would not recommend using with a Nephil, and would be well suited to teaching."

"Cas, my powers--"

"Are yours and yours alone. Azazel may have forcefully activated them on his own schedule and attempted to corrupt them and, through them, you, but he - and Ruby - failed. Your soul is far too pure and good for their hooks to find permanent anchor."

"But... I mean, you... angels... you always warned me against using them...."

"Only because the method with which you were amplifying them - that is, drinking demon blood - was so dangerous to you and the people around you, and training them to full strength properly after first tearing down Azazel's blocks would have taken considerably more time and effort... and, I suspect, those of my superiors actively assisting in bringing about the Apocalypse did not want you learning to use your powers without the addictive crutch of demon blood that could be used to prime your rage and point you at Lilith when the time came."

"So why are you just now telling me this?"

"Well," Castiel glanced away, looking somewhat sheepish. "To be honest, I did not realize that you were unaware that your powers were innate and not actually demonic in origin until I overheard you speaking of them in past tense as if they no longer existed because you were no longer drinking demon blood rather than you simply not using them. Given my clumsy understanding of social nuances and the complex mix of negative emotions you associate with your powers, I erred on the side of caution and did not mention it until our current conversation provided an opening."

Well. That was fair. Even so, Sam couldn't help but stare at Castiel as he attempted to process everything he had learned in such a short amount of time. The fact that the majority of Angels hated him was not new, but the fact that Heaven had actively sabotaged his efforts to be better than the demon blood that tainted him was... also not new, exactly, but Sam had never expected to hear it put so bluntly in conjunction with reassurance that his powers - and, by extension, Sam himself - did not come from a source of evil.

Even more bewildering was the hypothetical child Castiel spoke of and his assertion that Sam, not Dean who had always longed to be a parent, but Sam who had barely ever had anything to do with children even when he had been one, was to be given custody of the hypothetical Nephil if Castiel was incapacitated. The way Castiel had talked about the subject made it clear that he had never had Nephilim himself, and Sam knew that the creation of Nephilim was outlawed, and yet the Angel was sitting there, calm as you please, declaring that if he did ever have a child with a human and needed another parent besides himself and, presumably, the mother, that he would pick Sam. Sam, who was uncomfortable around kids at the best of times, even if he could fake passable competence in an emergency. Sam, who wouldn't trust himself to look after a completely human baby, never mind one that had "phenomenal cosmic powers" at its disposal. Sam who, until earlier when Castiel had declared that "nothing is worth losing you", had thought that Castiel might possibly consider him a friend at best and tolerated him as a reasonably useful asset at worst. Mind-boggling just didn't cover it.

And that wasn't even touching the whole thing with Castiel sounding like he was defending the actions of his soulless self. The subject of Sam's time topside without his soul was something Dean had never hesitated shut down hard, but Castiel had sounded almost... complimentary. Which made no sense, Sam knew, because without his soul he had been a tactless jerk, not--

"Your soulless self recognized that... and quite rightly called us out on our lack of respect for you and your sacrifices."

Sam swallowed against the lump forming in his throat, and again when it refused to be dislodged. Everything he did to help people, to try and make up for the damage he had caused, it never felt like enough. All the centuries spent in the Cage with Michael and Lucifer systematically taking out their rage on him amounted to only a year and a half on Earth, and the tortures blurred together to the point where Sam had long since lost count of how many centuries it had really been, shoving it down and shoving it down, his shaky forays into meditation and reshuffling his mind only managing to build the flimsiest of fences between his conscious mind and that echoing chasm of memory and pain, bits and pieces escaping here and there to scratch along his dreams. Little reminders that he may be out, maybe, but he would never be truly free. It was a truth, cold and logical and inexorable, that Dean refused to acknowledge in either of them, touched by Hell as they both were in different ways, and neither of them coping nearly as well as they wanted the other to believe.

"Stripped of your higher empathic functions and natural moral compass that is your soul, your body behaved with logical precision not unlike how most Angels would act."

The irony of an Angel of the Lord comparing his soulless self to other Angels was not lost on Sam, nor was the way that comparison gave him mixed feelings. All the years of praying, of believing in God and His Angels, having faith that some higher power was watching out for Dean and his Dad when he couldn't, that there was real good in the world to counterbalance all the evil being shoved at him from all sides...

"Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood."

...no....

"Nothing is worth losing you."

...but why....

"Sam? Sam, did you hear me?"

"Hm?" Jolted from his contemplating, Sam shot a guilty look first at the screen - how had he missed that much of the movie?! - and then gave Castiel a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Cas. What were you saying?"

"I was asking about Marius's assertion that he is in love with Cosette, when he has only just met her and barely interacted with her at all," Castiel repeated himself after a moment of scrutiny for his friend. "It seems disingenuous, more like the 'love' of the pizza man and the babysitter."

"It's supposed to be love at first sight, Cas," Sam explained, scrubbing a hand down his face. "It's like... when two people who've never interacted before meet, and there's this... connection that forms between them, like they click on a level that is deeper than physical or emotional. A look, a touch of hands... you just know, looking at that person, that this is it. This is the one." He shrugged. "It's talked about in books and movies and stories and songs all the time as this big romantic ideal, a lot like soulmates... uh, cupid-type soulmates, not me and Dean type soulmates."

"Do you not believe in love at first sight?" Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side with that puzzled curiosity that Sam found endearingly familiar.

"I don't disbelieve in it," Sam said, choosing his words carefully. "I mean, being a hunter has taught me that every story has some root in a truth. I just don't necessarily think that it always happens the way the stories make it sound. Like maybe sometimes it's one-sided, or something gets in the way like they live too far apart or one is already married or..." Sam bit his lip before he could continue the thought with mention of angels and humans, because he knew from Castiel that most instances of humans and angels coupling were less about romance and love and more about lust and awkward power imbalances, and the last thing he wanted to bring up right now was the hypothetical Nephil again. "Besides, just because love usually happens more slowly than a couple of seconds doesn't make it any less deep or meaningful or special."

"I see," Castiel hummed, and then, "Sam? How do you know when you're in love?"

...Shit.

"Uh," Sam reached up to rub the back of his neck, only to force his hand back down again when he realised what he was doing. "It's different for everyone, Cas...."

"I am aware," and there was a definite note of impatience in the gravelled voice. "I am asking how you know when you are in love."

"Oh," Sam mumbled. He could feel his face heating up and very nearly prayed that the heat wasn't a visibly obvious blush before he stopped himself; Castiel would probably hear it if he did. "Uh, well... not to sound like a broken record, but it was different for everyone I was... I mean, I felt differently about different people, even though it's all still love."

Castiel made an encouraging noise, and when Sam chanced a look in his direction, the Angel was turned more towards him than the screen, clearly interested and wanting to hear more. Well, okay then. Sam leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes, reaching back into the depths of his memory for the times he was in love or thought he was, shying away from some of the memories like Madison or Sarah or Amelia, and focusing on the deeper ones, the ones that got under his skin and stayed there across the years, even just as scars. There was a pattern there, a set of feelings that overlapped each instance.

"Happiness," he began, because that was the obvious place to start. "When you see the person, you feel happy. Being around them, sitting next to them, holding hands, hugging... full of happiness and joy and peace. You feel happy when they're happy, sad when they're sad, hurt when they're in pain... You want to protect them, even when you know they can protect themselves. You would fight, kill, even die for them, not because they would ever ask it of you, but because losing them is... unthinkable. It's agony. And all the pain is worth it, because seeing them smile is... it's better than Heaven."

"Oh," Castiel breathed. "Yes, that... that makes so much sense now."

There was a shuffling sound, and the couch cushions dipped beneath shifting weight, and then Sam felt one of his hands being enfolded in Castiel's, the skitter of that unfamiliar Grace held tightly leashed beneath his skin tingling just at the edge of Sam's awareness. He opened his eyes and looked at Castiel, who was beaming at him now from much closer than he had been. "Cas...?"

"Sam," Castiel was still smiling, but it was warmer, softer than the brilliant joy of before, more comfortable and... "Thank you for sharing your feelings with me. I was never able to explain myself adequately to my brothers, and so they frequently drew incorrect conclusions that I lacked the necessary frame of reference to refute or correct. Perhaps now I can make them understand."

"Understand?"

"That I am in love with you, Sam Winchester," Castiel squeezed Sam's hand gently. "My world started the day I took your hand. And I would not have it any other way."

"Cas... I...." He couldn't say it. He wanted to, God, did he ever want to say it back, but the words caught in his throat, too used to being choked back after so many years. "Cas...."

"I know. Sam? Will you hold me again? I enjoyed that quite a lot."

"Sure, Cas," Sam shifted, shoving the whirling of his thoughts back and away, and opened his arms. Castiel released his hand and moved closer, pressing the length of his body against Sam's. He let out a soft sigh as Sam brought his arms up to curl around Castiel, settling in a loose embrace that still managed to fully encompass the Angel's smaller physical frame. Together, they turned to watch the movie, wrapped up in each other and the mutual assurance that their feelings, spoken or not, were returned.

"Tomorrow we'll discover what our God in Heaven has in store...."

=End=